One Friday in December

Christmas music playing from my ear buds, a cup of chai tea next to me with rampant thoughts of my children cycle around and around on an unending loop I am decidedly sad. What young mothers do not know is all that worry and effort spilled onto your little ones blend and seep into later years and never, ever really leaves even when your children are adults. How I wish I could still pick my child up and save them from touching that hot stove or hug them until all the hurt goes away and kiss them until giggles replace sobs. Instead adults make adult decisions and live with those choices. I don’t have to agree with it but I struggle with watching the continued impacts those choices have.

The first step of solving a problem is admitting to the issue. I am an enabler. Not only that I am a practicing adult child frantically trying to parent everyone around me so that I can move to peace, security and tranquility while ignoring my own good. Is this what 49 brings? Recognition? Hopefully as my last decade closes I will eventually move from recognition to action in this space. But it’s so hard. My gut cinches at the thought. I just want my kids to be happy so that I can be happy. See!?! Ugg. I have to stop waiting to be happy. I have to stop waiting. Happiness is not based on circumstance but on being present in this very moment. I need to smack myself and remember that, right?

Take a deep breath, I remind myself and breathe out the angst. Breathe in peace and breath out a prayer that God will provide for my children in spaces that I can’t ever imagine or physically reach. If ever there is a time for a Christmas miracle it would be now.

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